The sun was just short of set as the two new inhabitants of one very small island in the Caribbean played happily in the warm waters. Jack Sparrow watched with a smirk on his face as Ms. Swann stopped her little water-dance and looked at him. "Jack," She started, her tone almost irritated. His expression dropped as he listened to her. "How can it be that we're standing in clean water, and you're still filthy?"

Jack looked down to where her gaze was fixed on his hands, and shrugged. "Ms Swann, I've worked very hard for many years to be this... striking." He told her and held up his nearly black hands to observe them himself. "A lil' dip in the water would never suffice to change that."

"Perhaps," She started and ran a finger over the dirt on the back of his hand. "But I'm sure to make quick work of undoing your work." Elizabeth smirked at Jack's expression when she took his hand in hers and started to rub away the grim with her thumb- he look nearly horrified.

He didn't stop her though, instead watched in awe as she took his arm and scrubbed with her soft fingers. The blackness that had unintentionally built up over years of work with dingy ropes came off almost easily, with the proper amount of pressure. Before he knew it, the captain was chuckling quietly to himself, thinking of their situation.

"What do you find so very comical, Captain Sparrow?" She asked him with his hand still in hers, her eyes narrowing in a near-glare.

"One week ago, would you have imagined that you'd be in uncharted waters holding hands with a pirate, waiting to die on a deserted island in naught but yer skivvies?"

Elizabeth looked down to her own body, noting the state of her shift in the water, then moved her gaze to the side of Jack, on the moving waters. Then, with a silent shrug and a shake of her head, she returned to scrubbing his hand. "Where are you from, Jack?" She asked after a quiet moment.

"Born on a ship, love." Jack said and shrugged with his eyes still glued to her working hands.

Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she didn't really expect any other answer. Somewhere inside her head, she had thought it to be incredibly entertaining to think that Jack Sparrow had been a man of rich heritage; then ran off to join a pirate ship and be engaged in the incredible stories that she had read about.

"And you, love?" Jack asked, looking down at her face as she worked, instead of her hands.

"England. My father and I came to the Isle of Jamaica just after my mother died of the fever." She told him, and looked up to him quickly before hastily trading to his opposite hand.

"My condolences." He said shortly. Then looked down as she traced his brand gently. "Are you quite done yet?" He asked, watching her unbutton his sleeves to get farther.

"No." The two of them were still in thigh-deep water and dripping wet. The sun was nearly done setting and the night's wind was bringing a chill off the water. "Does it hurt to get inking done like this?" Elizabeth asked, rubbing her opened-palm over the tattoo of a sparrow in flight to remove the dark grime.

"Probably." Jack asked honestly. Elizabeth looked to his eyes questioningly. "Whiskey helps, love, to dull the senses."

"Ah- the alcohol. Drink up, me 'heartie." She repeated calmly with a sideways grin.

"Drink up, indeed." Jack said and felt a change in her movements to be more gentle and detached. "I think it's clean." He told her, trying to take his arm back.

"Ah- no it's not. But it will have to suffice for now- as we have no soap!" She said, sounding almost proud of her work. Jack tried to turn and flee to the land, but was stopped. "No, Jack, we can't have you mismatched!" She said, and repeated all of her previous actions on his left arm.

The two of them made their way back to dry land and lay down on either side of the fire, which had picked up a bit with the breeze. Jack held his bottle gingerly and Elizabeth though of Will and before long, the two of them were asleep.

-

Jack woke up the next morning with a groan. Once he had fully woken up, he looked around for his 'company' and found her behind his back, bundled up no more than three feet away from him. 'The lass must be missing her warm bed and servant's care.' Jack smirked at his own thoughts and got up.

Not feeling up to lying still and listening to his thoughts, Jack got up and started to make his way around the interior of the island. He remembered that there had been nothing helpful on the island, but it had been nearly a decade, and he had decided that it wouldn't hurt a thing to look. When he last was marooned on the unmapped island, Captain Jack Sparrow had been too angry and upset to think of much else other than the mutiny. It wasn't until he was faced with several gun barrels and quick talking himself out of a sticky situation that he realized that he had out run his own death.

Whether or not he had just had good fortune within bad conditions, Jack had decided that this island was not meant to be his final resting place. So on this trip to the small spatter of sand amongst miles of water, Jack had no intention of letting himself die, or Elizabeth for that matter. He would get off of 'his' island, it was just a matter of time before the famous Captain Jack Sparrow had a plan.